A culture of hospitality

Me, Lourdes, and Javi

Peruvians are known for being a very welcoming and hospitable people, and my host parents are no exception. It takes a big heart to invite a new person into your family, and a sincere warmth to immediately treat that newcomer not as a stranger, but as a daughter. I feel incredibly lucky to have landed with such a wonderful set of papás peruanos, because feeling at home in my Peruvian family makes it easier to be so far from my real home.

In day-to-day life, the normalcy of routine makes it easy to take this hospitality for granted. But last week, I was reminded of how deep it really runs when the 21ers came to visit Cajabamba. When Lourdes heard that there were visiting volunteers, she insisted that they come to our house for dinner. She went and bought food enough to feed all ten of us, being sure to include a wide array of Cajabamba's traditional favorites, and even made a pot of hot chocolate, which is usually only for special occasions. So that evening we all cozied elbow to elbow around our small dining room table, and spent the next two hours listening to tales of Javi's farm, Lourdes' archaeological digs in Machu Picchu, and the family's close encounters with Sendero Luminoso in the época del terrorismo. In the span of mere hours, my host parents made the 21ers feel like they were already part of the family. Everybody came back for dinner again the next night, and by the time they left they were all making plans to return to visit Cajabamba, upon Lourdes' insistence that they'll always have a home awaiting them here.

The whole gang gathered in our living room

Since feeding seven extra people for two nights is no cheap date, the 21ers all pooled some money, and I was left with the task of trying to get Lourdes to accept it. She of course refused, saying that they were guests and she was so happy to be able to invite them into our home. In Spanish "invitar" literally means "to invite," but also carries a much more profound subtext linked to hospitality's important place in Peruvian culture - a host will always invitar you food and drink, even if it means the clothes off their own back. This is one of the most salient and deeply touching aspects of my experience living in one of Peru's poorest rural regions: children will offer me part of their candy bars, señoras that I work with will not let me leave their houses without having eaten or drinken something, and even the most humble of campesinos will invite me to share their family's lunch. This communal spirit of generosity has rubbed off on me - I instinctively offer to share whatever I'm eating with those around me, and always buy a little extra so there's enough to spread around a bigger group - and it is something I hope to continue back in the States, as one small aspect of how Peru has changed me for the better.

But social norms of hospitality aside, I could not let my host family front all that extra food. I convinced Lourdes that the 21ers were required by Peace Corps to pay for their meals while on training trips, and told her that since they'd already left the money she may as well just take it. She eventually relented and accepted their contribution, but not without grumpily warning me: "Meghan, if you try this barbaridad (atrocity/nonsense) when your parents visit, I will not accept! Them I am going to invitar, sí o sí!"